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by bexca



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: :(, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Like, Mental Health Issues, Not cutting, Numbness, Panic Attacks, at all, but again pls be careful n if that will trigger you dont read!, but be careful please!, but that isnt really the main focus, i guess?, implied disordered eating, lonely hyuck, not an eating disorder tho, very brief - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexca/pseuds/bexca
Summary: Every time Donghyuck had slowed down and stopped to think, he’d just been overwhelmed in the worst way possible. And there was no reason for it.He hadn’t cried. He’d tried, thinking it would maybe make the feeling go away, but even watching sad clips from movies with characters he was emotionally attached to, hadn’t formed any tears. He couldn’t fucking cry and it was the most frustrating thing.It was almost as if he was feeling absolutely nothing and absolutely everything at the exact same time but his body couldn’t keep up so instead, it decided to just awkwardly *exist*.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------in other words, hyuck has a build up of little things, which makes him super overwhelmed and leads to a panic attack
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





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**Author's Note:**

> hey, im ngl, this is purely a vent fic  
> i dont think this is what life is like for hyuck irl, im just projecting
> 
> please please please dont read if the following will trigger you:  
> \- unintentional (kinda?) self harm (hair pulling, digging in nails)  
> \- panic/anxiety attacks  
> \- unresolved negative thinking (as in, there isnt really a positive spin on it by the end)  
> \- very briefly mentioned referenced sexual assault  
> \- mentioned disordered eating (not eating disorder tho)

To be honest, Donghyuck didn’t know what had triggered it. His week had been... fine. Yeeeeaaaahhhhh... fine. So his professors had given him more work than he’d planned for and he’d had to cut out some of his scheduled chill time. What about it? It just meant he had less time to think about the fact he hadn’t been invited to Jaemin’s birthday party, despite him and Nana being close. 

And it  _ also  _ meant he was able to avoid focusing on the fact an old friend from high school had been accused of sexual assault. 

_ And  _ it also meant there was no time to stew about the fact he was pretty sure he was gaining weight and not in the good way, of muscle mass, either. 

It was fine though. He was pretty sure Jaemin just hadn’t invited him because he  _ knew  _ Hyuck didn’t like parties and so thought he’d have turned the offer down. Which, to be fair, he probably would have. Parties weren’t really his thing. 

And he wasn’t even friends with that guy from school anymore, hadn’t spoken to him in literally a year and a half, so honestly, there was no reason to be shaken up about it. 

And weight gain was nothing to feel bad about, it literally just meant a little bit more tummy, which just made hugs better.  _ And  _ it was proof that his eating habits were becoming better (he’d been working hard to stop having coffee instead of a meal), which was always good.

So why the fuck did he want to cry all the time? His work hadn’t even been hard, and even if he  _ had _ had to cut out some Netflix for it, he’d still had enough time to watch an episode of ‘Avatar the Last Airbender’ every single night this week. But every single time he’d slowed down and stopped to think, he’d just been overwhelmed in the worst way possible. And there was no reason for it.

Despite that, Donghyuck hadn’t cried. He’d tried, thinking it would maybe make the feeling go away, but even watching sad clips from movies with characters he was emotionally attached to, hadn’t formed any tears. He couldn’t fucking cry and it was the most frustrating thing. 

It was almost as if he was feeling absolutely nothing and absolutely everything at the exact same time but his body couldn’t keep up so instead, it decided to just awkwardly _exist_. 

It had been on Tuesday that he’d last tried to cry, and it was now Friday. He still had work that needed completed but the next deadline wasn’t until Wednesday so he figured he could take the evening off. You know, grab some ice cream. Snuggle under a blanket. Grab the TV remote. Try to stay off social media (particularly snapchat and instagram) cos tonight was Jaemin’s party, and it would most likely be everywhere cos Nana was friends with anyone and everyone. Put on the next episode of Avatar. Get up from the couch to make some (decaf, it was 9pm after all) coffee. Ignore his phone pinging, full of drunk texts from his friends who  _ had  _ been invited to Nana’s. Sit back down and put on another show, this time a comedy. Try to feel something other than numb. Just the usual.

It was somewhere around his third cup of coffee and fourth helping of ice cream that the lingering feeling of wrongness in Donghyuck’s chest grew. Maybe just one check of instagram wouldn’t hurt? He needed to make sure they were all okay. 

Even if he wasn’t invited, he didn’t want them dying on him. Mark had a low alcohol tolerance after all.

He opened his chat with Renjun, just expecting a few blurry photos of him with the others, nothing much. Instead he was greeted by... random keyboard smashes? Either that or indecipherable messages... Still, it was nice to be thought of? And none of the texts had bad news (well… he assumed they didn’t… he couldn’t actually tell what they said)? So why was the hollow pit in his stomach still growing?

Whatever. 

Leaving Renjun on read (he was probably having too much fun to notice anyway), he put his phone down again. Maybe he would finally be able to cry today, especially if the feeling in his tummy was anything to go by. Quickly he pulled up his sad playlist, clicking shuffle, before going to turn the main lights off, leaving only the faint glow of the candle in the opposite corner, barely reaching him (the dark was better anyway). 

He turned back around, surprised to find the couch feeling so far away. All his energy suddenly seemed to be gone, and there was no way he was getting back over there. It was a whole 7 steps away and considering the fact that- oh, there was apparently something sitting on his chest? And his breathing sounded very loud for some reason? And? Why was he suddenly covered in a layer of sweat?  


Maybe it would be better to sit down. He slid down the wall, hands making their way into his hair. He definitely shouldn’t do this, it was definitely one of the self-destructive habits Renjun was trying to stop him from doin- too late. He tugged his hair, hard, fingers tangling in the roots.

Oh.  _ Oh. _ There was that oxygen that was oh-so-necessary for living. The gasp that the pain sparked, cleared the dark spots in his vision. His grip in his hair loosened as he filled his lungs, mirrored by the tightness in his chest.

His hands fell to clutch his arms, wrapped around himself tightly. Now he could breathe (somewhat shakily, but if it lapsed, digging his nails into his palm always helped), he could tune into his brain again. Immediately he wished he hadn’t. His brain was LOUD.

_ Dumb Stupid Who would ever want you at their party You just make things suck What with your stupid fucking jokes and draping yourself across people Who do you actually think you are Did you ever even ask if that was actually okay with them Youre so heavy i bet you practically suffocate them when you hug them Noone actually likes you The only people who would actually wanna hang out with you are bad people like your old friend You cant trust anyone Youre fat and gross and a burden and people wouldnt care if you starved yourself People dont care if you hurt yourself People dont care if they hurt you People dont care about you- _

_ People dont care. _

Tears prickled hotly around his eyes before spilling down his face ( _ finally _ ), dripping off his chin, onto his clothes. Of course, this kind of thinking wasn’t what Donghyuck had had in mind when he’d said he wanted to cry, but oh well, he’ll take what he can get. 

His eyes darted around the room, blurry and dark, unable to focus on one thing. 

Everything was  _ bad. _

There was no such thing as a good thing. 

Not even a neutral thing. 

His gaze landed on his plant. He hadn’t watered it this week and now it was dying. 

His cushions. Bought at Forever 21, meaning there was definitely some kind of worker exploitation in the making of those. 

His tap. There were so many people in the world without water, and yet he’d waste it willingly while brushing his teeth or by having baths? 

His chair. A tree was cut down for that. 

His pictures. Paper had been wasted printing those off. 

His icecream. No doubt he’d put on more weight after this evening. 

His carpet. 

His TV. 

His air con. 

His blanket. 

His coffee. 

His phone.

There was no pure goodness. 

Everything had a negative. 

His breath was short again. Nails digging in. Sharp pain. Gasping. Breathing.

  
  


Logically, he knew he was being irrational. 

In the morning, when he wasn’t so tired and wasn’t so vulnerable to his own brain, things would seem better. Yes, these things that his brain was (ever-so-kindly) pointing out to him would all still be true. They were all valid points. But in the morning, when he didn’t feel like someone was pushing on his chest, he would see the positives of them as well, be able to balance them. 

Right now however, logic wasn’t exactly working, and positives felt impossible to find.

He screwed his eyes shut, burying them in his knees. He couldn’t look at things right now. Everything was too much.

Without the visual stimulation overwhelming him, the ringing in his ears slowly became quieter, other noises becoming clearer. He hadn’t even noticed he couldn’t hear the music he'd set to play earlier. Maybe he had missed other things too? When he did a quick scan of his body, he couldn’t feel his lower legs. He could only wiggle his toes.

Lol, numb both mentally AND physically. Today was clearly his day.

At least now that he could hear the music, he had something to focus on rather than his thoughts. He tuned in, trying to pull himself to the present.

“Little things, all the stereotypes,

They're gonna help you get through this one night.

And there will be a day,

When you can say you're okay and mean it”

Secret for the mad, Dodie. As her soft voice faded out, Hyuck loosened his arms a bit from where they were squeezing his legs tightly. He could still feel the wall, solid behind him, and leaned back slightly, keeping his eyes shut but taking them away from his knees.

Gradually his body started to come back to him, and he untangled his limbs until he was just a drained heap spreadeagled on the floor. 

Tentatively he opened an eye. 

The candle that had been previously lighting the room had clearly snuffed out, leaving him lying in the dark. The street lights from outside cast the faintest of glows into the room, barely reaching to his 3rd floor. It was probably for the better, a good midway point between  _ no _ visual stimulation and bright light.  


He lay there for a while longer, regaining control of his body and breathing, focusing on the music and adjusting his eyes, before sitting up slowly. After letting his dizziness pass, he crawled over to the couch, grabbing his coffee and finishing it, trying to get some fluids back into himself. Despite all the sugar in the icecream he’d had earlier, Hyuck was exhausted, worn-out by the adrenaline crash.

He heaved himself up onto the couch, rearranging the cushions to pillow his head, before laying down and spreading the blanket over him. 

His bedroom was far too far away right now, so tonight’s bed was the couch. Waking up with a sore back and doing the dishes was tomorrow’s issue. Now it was sleep time. 

He shut his eyes, and within minutes had drifted off.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry if other people feel this isnt an accurate representation of a panic/anxiety attack, i just went off my own experiences n what happens to me when they come, cos they always come SUPER fast, like, literally within 20-30 secs n then dont last that long so yeh, sorry if this isnt accurate for you?
> 
> i honestly have no clue if anyone else actually struggles with the fact that they cant look at something without finding at least one negative thing about it, but its really been overwhelming me recently, hence this fic,,,
> 
> i dont actually think i phrased everything the right way in this, so i dunno if i'll get across what im trying to but oh well,,, this was mainly a way of trying to stop myself from relapsing into da depressions further :') we'll see if it works lol
> 
> ehm? lemme know what you thought? kudos and comments are ALWAYS appreciated ^-^


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